Female Drivers, No Survivors
by Collie
Summary: Giles teaches Anya to drive.


TITLE: Female Drivers, No Survivors.   
AUTHOR: Collie.   
EMAIL: fiendishthingee@aol.com   
RATING: PG.   
FEEDBACK: It's what makes the world go 'round.   
SUMMARY: Giles teaches Anya to drive.   
SPOILERS: Slight for 'Triangle'.   
DISTRIBUTION: YGTS?, and Through My Eyes. Anyone else, just let me know.   
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I just make them do stupid pet tricks for the amusement of others.   
NOTES: Answer to challenge #62 at YGTS? The title comes from a Rocky Horror Picture Show ad lib line.   
DEDICATION: To Lizz.   
  
  
Giles stared at Anya.   
  
Anya stared at Giles.   
  
Giles raised an eyebrow, questioningly.   
  
Anya raised an eyebrow -- or, at least, attempted to. Each time she tried, both lifted. She scrunched her nose in frustration, rolling her eyes up in her head, trying unsuccessfully to glare at her own eyebrows. She let out a whine, smacking the leather of the driver's seat, angrily.   
  
"Why won't *my* body parts behave like *your's*? We're both mortal.. why can't I do the single-eyebrow-lifting-trick? It's so effective at making a person feel uncomfortable."   
  
Giles sighed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. Typical with Giles-frustration.   
  
"Anya.. what is that, that *thing* on my dashboard?"   
  
Anya glanced at the dashboard of Giles' red convertible, giving it the once-over, then looked back to Giles.   
  
"What thing?"   
  
Giles gestured with his glasses.   
  
"That.. Beanie.. thing. Sitting right there. It's.. staring. Please remove it before we begin."   
  
Anya pouted, reaching out to grab the small black and white Beanie Baby cow sitting on Giles' dashboard. She cradled it lovingly in her hands, petting it as if it were a kitten.   
  
"But, Giles.. this is Daisy, my Beanie Baby cow. I love it. It's cute."   
  
She looked up at Giles, then thrust Daisy into Giles' face.   
  
"See? Isn't it adorable? I get the strangest urge to squeal whenever I see it. Sometimes I comply, but only in private. I did it once in public, and people looked at me strangely. I didn't like it."   
  
Giles scooted back, smiling slightly, gently pushing Anya's hand away.   
  
"Uh, yes.. well.. you may keep, er, Daisy.. in the car, but not on the dash. It's distracting."   
  
Anya sighed and nodded, turning and placing Daisy in the backseat. She turned back, placing both hands on the steering wheel, smiling.   
  
"All right. Let's burn rubber!"   
  
She stomped her foot down on the gas pedal, her smile fading when nothing happened. She pushed down a couple more times, her frown deepening as the car remained stationary. She looked at Giles who was sitting back in the passenger side seat, smirking at her, then bent her head down, looking at the gas pedal itself. She huffed, sitting up again, glaring accusingly at Giles.   
  
"Your car isn't cooperating. Why isn't it accelerating? The skinny pedal makes the car go faster. I remember that."   
  
Giles sighed, settling his glasses back on his nose. He reached into his pant's pocket, pulling out a set of keys, jangling them.   
  
"That would be because the car is not turned on, Anya."   
  
Anya nodded, grabbing for the keys. Giles yanked them out of her reach, sticking up a finger.   
  
"Hey!"   
  
"No, no. Not quite yet. First, the basics."   
  
Anya pouted again, crossing her arms stubbornly.   
  
"I don't need basics, Giles. I've driven your car before."   
  
"Yes, and I had to have it tuned afterwards. That is why I am wasting a perfectly good Sunday afternoon teaching you how to drive."   
  
Anya frowned at Giles.   
  
"But, you said, 'Anya, I can't believe you drove my car without having *any* prior knowledge of driving! Come Sunday afternoon, you will have your ex-demon ass in that driver's seat and I will teach you to drive properly, or I'm making you pay for my tune-up!'"   
  
Giles blushed slightly, shifting his weight as she threw his own angry words back at him, in an extremely bad British accent, nonetheless. She continued.   
  
"You apparently aren't doing this out of the kindness of your heart, Giles. You only want your car to be safe the next time Willow and I steal it."   
  
Giles cleared his throat, reaching for his seatbelt, buckling it.   
  
"If you steal my car again, Anya.. I'll fire you. Then you will have no more money, and once again, you'll be bitter."   
  
Anya opened her mouth to protest, but Giles just shook his head.   
  
"No. It's time to start. Now, before I relinquish these keys, we shall lay down a few ground rules. You will do absolutely *nothing* without my say so. No starting the car. No accelerating. No braking. No turning. No yelling obscenities at people riding their bikes in the street--"   
  
"But, Giles! I saw it in a movie once. It was highly effective--"   
  
Giles held up his finger again, cutting Anya off.   
  
"No turning the wrong way down a one-way street, simply because you feel the need for ice cream. No driving over the islands in the middle of the street because you don't wish to wait for the turning lane. And absolutely, under no circumstances, are you to stop in the middle of an intersection to gather up a dead chipmunk from the street because you feel you can resurrect it by pumping it up with a bicycle pump. I said it before and I'll say it again -- cartoons are *not* a proper representation of real life."   
  
Anya scowled, crossing her arms.   
  
"It was only once."   
  
Giles pressed his lips together, nodding.   
  
"Yes, well. Shall we get this over with?"   
  
Anya perked instantly, holding out her hands for the keys. Giles closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Then, he slowly dropped the keys into Anya's hand. She bounced, jabbing the keys in the ignition.   
  
"Anya!"   
  
Anya jumped, whipping her head around to face Giles.   
  
"What?!"   
  
Giles pursed his lips.   
  
"Anya, what was rule number one?"   
  
Anya blinked.   
  
"Um.. oh. Not to do anything without your say-so."   
  
Giles nodded, glancing at the keys in the ignition. Anya looked at them, then smiled sheepishly, pulling them out. She clasped them in her hand, setting her hands in her lap.   
  
"I'm sorry. May I start the car, Giles?"   
  
Giles nodded.   
  
"You may.."   
  
She squealed, shoving the keys back into the ignition, turning them. The car started with a rumble. Giles tilted his head back, squinting into the mid-day sun, his voice a mutter under the roar of the engine.   
  
"I *really* should have started going to church."   
  
***   
  
Giles' knuckles were turning white from gripping the armrest so hard. He'd been faced with the end of the world countless times -- demons, monsters, torture -- but he wasn't sure if any of them held a candle to teaching Anya to drive. He gritted his teeth.   
  
"Anya, when I say press the gas pedal gently, I mean *gently*."   
  
Anya sighed, her eyes on the road.   
  
"I *did* press it gently, Giles."   
  
"Bolting from the stop with tires screeching, like a racehorse from the start gate is not exactly gently, Anya."   
  
The ex-demon made a face, easing up on the gas. Giles relaxed a bit.   
  
"That's better. Now, slow the car and get into the right-hand lane. We're going to turn here.. Anya! What are you doing?!"   
  
Anya had bent over and was fiddling with the radio dial, her eyes completely off the road. She looked up at Giles, mystified.   
  
"What's the matter?"   
  
Giles grabbed the wheel, jerking the car into the right-hand lane.   
  
"Brake! Brake!"   
  
Anya sat up, slamming down on the brake. She glared at Giles.   
  
"What are you doing? I was just going to turn on the radio. People listen to music while driving. I've seen it."   
  
"Anya! *Please* keep your eyes on the road at all times. We are turning down this street, and after we do, I want you to pull off to the side of the road. Now!"   
  
Anya grumbled, taking the wheel. She jerked the car down an empty residential street, pulling to the curb in front of a house.   
  
Unfortunately, she didn't judge the distance to the curb very well.   
  
The car hopped the curb, the front bumper smashing through a rosebush. Rose petals flew up in the air, scattering like pink and yellow confetti all over the hood of the car. Anya screamed, her hands flailing about. She slammed on the brake again, the car coming to a dead stop. Giles grimaced, shutting his eyes tightly, counting backwards to control his temper.   
  
"Ten, nine, eight, seven.."   
  
"Giles! I crashed! Oh my God -- are we going to die?"   
  
She spun around in the seat, grabbing Giles and shaking him by the shoulders.   
  
"Giles! People die in car crashes! I don't want to die!"   
  
Giles calmly opened his eyes, reaching up to remove Anya's hands from his shoulder.   
  
"Anya, do shut up, and stop shaking me. You're going to give me whiplash.. if you haven't already."   
  
Anya whimpered, turning back to glare at the steering wheel.   
  
"I've decided that I dislike driving. I don't wish to do it anymore. It was so easy the first time, when there were no rules. These rules make me nervous, and that makes my stomach all fluttery, and then I feel like I'm going to vomit."   
  
Giles resisted the urge to strangle the shaken girl. Barely. He calmly turned to her, his voice tight with restraint.   
  
"Anya, I will make you a deal. If I allow you to have.. Daisy.. on the dashboard, will you try again? It gets easier. You simply need to relax."   
  
Anya swallowed nervously, glancing back at the upturned Beanie Baby cow in the backseat. She reached back, grabbing it, then nodded, crushing it to her chest like it was a life line. Giles nodded, gesturing for her to place it on the dash. Anya gave the limp cow a small peck on the head, then placed it on the dash. She took a deep breath and placed both hands on the wheel once again.   
  
"Okay. I can do this. I've been alive for over 1100 years. I *need* to learn how to drive."   
  
Giles turned his head to look down the street, making sure the road was clear.   
  
"Yes, and hopefully we'll live to see tomorrow."   
  
Anya glanced over at Giles, tapping him on the shoulder.   
  
"May we have music? I'd like some, please."   
  
Giles sighed, nodding.   
  
"I suppose. Only, no oldies. Buffy had this terrible habit of singing along to bubblegum oldies while I was teaching her to drive. Almost made me wish she'd drive us right off of a cliff."   
  
Anya brightened, flipping on the radio.   
  
"I can drive you off of a cliff if you like, Giles. I'm sure there's one around here, some--"   
  
Giles held up his hand, shaking his head.   
  
"No, no.. that's quite all right. Just an expression. Now, shift the car into reverse and *slowly* back down from the curb."   
  
Anya nodded, grabbing the gearshift and throwing it back into reverse. She pressed on the gas and they went flying backwards, Anya slamming on the brake, stopping just shy of hitting a car that was parked across the street. Giles slumped down in his seat, clutching to the seatbelt, tightly. He uttered a silent prayer to every God he could think of, then motioned for her to drive. He was still praying as Anya tore into the thrum of traffic.   
  
***   
  
Giles stumbled through the door of the Magic Box, pale as a sheet. He jerked his head around wildly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Then he stumbled towards the counter, grabbing the edge and bending over, kissing it's smooth wooden surface. He kissed it several times, not even pausing when Anya walked in behind him. She stopped, making a face.   
  
"Giles, you really need to date more. I know the others would agree with me when I say that the countertop would not make a very good orgasm friend."   
  
Giles set his jaw, slowly standing back up.   
  
"Anya, please take the rest of the day off."   
  
Anya frowned.   
  
"But --"   
  
"Anya! Go!"   
  
Anya pouted, stomping her foot. She huffed and turned on her heel, stalking out, the bell above the door ringing out in protest. Giles took a deep breath, walking around behind the counter and slumping down on a stool. He placed his head in his hands, thanking the Gods that watched over him.   
  
"1100 years old or not, if it wears the body of a female teenager, do *not* put it behind the wheel."   
  



End file.
